IVF arc, angsty fluff: They're supposed to go to the Gunmen's Halloween party, but there's something they need to make sure of first. (wc: 1,320)
Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023
Fictober Day 31: Trick or Treat
When she asks Mulder what she can bring to the Gunmen’s annual Halloween party, she doesn’t expect him to say paper towels. But he does. She repeats the word, and he laughs, saying yes, paper towels and he’ll explain later. That is why she’s at the drugstore at 5 p.m., looking for said paper towels. Except she’s in the wrong aisle. In front of her are pictures of smiling women, chubby-cheeked babies, and blue skies.
Pregnancy tests.
At first, she just stares at them. She just took a wrong turn and now she’s confused as to why there are pregnancy tests. Then, she takes one from the shelf. Just to see what it says. This isn’t the first time she’s buying a test. If she’s buying one, anyway. She bought one once, when she was in college where she prayed every night that she wasn’t pregnant. Another one a few weeks ago, and this time praying that she was. In the end, she’d been pregnant neither time. Third time’s the charm, she thinks.
“Paper towels,” she mumbles, reminding herself why she's really here, but she’s unable to leave the aisle. Her period is late. Has been for a few days. She didn’t think much of it – still doesn’t. It’s been late before. With their job, it seems a given. And yet.
She stares at the boxes and she thinks of Mulder. They only just started being intimate. She can still count their sexual encounters on one hand. That’s how new it is. Just thinking of him makes her feel warm all over. Somewhere across town, he’s getting ready for the Halloween party at the Gunmen's, unaware of what she’s going through. ‘We don’t need condoms’, she’d said that first time. Maybe, she thinks, glaring at the boxes, she was wrong.
She decides to buy a test. An emergency pregnancy test, so to speak. She quickly makes her way through the store, picking up the paper towels, and a bag of candy corn, suddenly craving the overly sugary treat. She pays for everything and hides the pregnancy test at the bottom of her bag. It’s in there just in case, after all.
At home, she puts the pregnancy test and its implications out of her mind. But every once in a while, she glances at her bag, where the test remains hidden. She snacks on the candy corn while she gets ready and waits for Mulder.
“Trick or treat.” A voice that’s distinctively Mulder’s follows after a series of knocks. Scully smiles, opening the door to him. He’s surrounded by several small kids, all grinning up at her, some of them with missing teeth. There’s a little Batman, a Spiderman, and a witch. Luckily, she prepared a bowl with candy and she hands each child some of it, and every single one thanks her. Watching them, she tears up, her hormones overwhelming her.
“Have a spooky night,” Mulder says to them and they giggle as they make their way to the next apartment.
“Hey you,” he says, but his smile quickly fades. “Scully? Are you okay?” She nods, turning away from him because she’s convinced she will start crying any second. She hears the door click close and Mulder follows her inside. He’s gentle as he puts his arms around her from behind.
“What is it?” he whispers into her ear. “Did something happen?”
“No,” she replies truthfully. “I think I’m just tired.” She doesn’t want to burden Mulder with possibilities. Or pipe dreams. She isn’t pregnant. She can’t be pregnant. Buying that test was the worst idea she’s had in a long time.
“We can just stay in,” he says. “Hand out candy to the kids, go to bed early.”
“We’re not 80, Mulder,” she says, finding herself chuckling. She hopes they’re still doing this in 10 years, in 20. Maybe even when they’re 80.
“I know we aren’t.” He waggles his eyebrows at her. “I can think of lots of things we can do staying home.” He’s nuzzling her neck, his nose tickling her skin. She playfully pushes him away and he just grins at her with a dreamy look. What if their child smiles that exact same way? Her expression falters. There is no what if. There’s no child.
“Hey, what did I say? I know it’s Halloween, but you’re scaring the shit out of me.” Instead of answering him, she picks up her bag and hands it to him.
“Look inside,” she says quietly. He takes out the paper towels and then gasps. His eyes shoot up and meet hers.
“Is that- did you take it? Are you? Is it? Are you all right, Scully?”
“I didn’t take it. I don’t know why I bought it. I’m late, and I- I just stood there and I got it just in case. It was a dumb idea.”
“Since when do you eat candy corn?” Mulder asks and for a moment she’s perplexed. He points at the small bowl on the table. “You hate that stuff.” Unlike him, who stuffs one of the colorful treats into his mouth.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I felt like eating it.”
“Take the test, Scully,” he says, pressing the box into her hand. “I think… I think maybe today is a good day to test fate.”
“The Gunmen are expecting us.”
“They can wait. This can’t.”
“It’s not too late,” she says, trying to tug at his sleeve. “Let’s go.” He slowly shakes his head at her. It’s now or never.
“I’ll even hold your hand.”
“While I pee?”
“If that’s what you want,” he says solemnly.
“You can hold my hand after.”
And that’s what he does. His hand is sweaty, and she feels the restlessness inside him. If he weren't holding her hand, he'd be pacing. But she needs his strength, and he gives it to her willingly.
“Do you want me to talk?” he asks. “Or be quiet? I can do either.”
“You can talk, Mulder,” she says softly, smiling.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s a first.”
“This is too important,” he says. “I don’t want to jinx it. Which one do you think did it?” She turns to look at him. “I think it was the second time. Not the first. We didn’t know what we were doing. The second time. I think that’s when it took.”
“Mulder, we don’t know what the test is gonna say.”
“When have I ever been wrong? About anything that’s important?” She wants him to be right. She’s never wanted anything as much as this. “Your hand is ice-cold, Scully.”
“I’m nervous.”
“So am I, but I have a good feeling. A very good feeling. How much longer?” A moment later, the alarm dings. Scully’s heart races in her chest. The next second will change everything. The greatest joy or the biggest disappointment.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she says, her voice breaking. “Can you look?”
“You want me to do it? Are you sure?” She nods, tears in her eyes. She watches Mulder reach for the test with trembling hands. Her eyes are on his face, trying to read it. He blinks at the small plastic stick before he turns to her. “Trick or treat, Scully?”
“What?” she asks.
“Trick or treat,” he repeats, trying to keep his face neutral. But there’s something. A glimmer. Her heart is still racing, but she’s going to take a chance.
“Treat,” she says.
He shows the test to her, his hand shaking. “We’re gonna have a child,” he says with a laugh.
“We’re,” she begins, breaking off. She takes the test from him and there it is. Clear as day. She’s pregnant.
“I knew it when I saw the candy corn,” he says, taking her into his arms. “You’re pregnant, Scully. We did it. We got our miracle.”
“We did,” she says, still in awe. “We really did it.”
Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (The X-Files) vs Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn (Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù)
Mulder/Scully
Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian
Voting ended onOct 11, 2023
This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.
Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (The X-Files) vs Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov (Yuri!!! on Ice)
Mulder/Scully
Yuuri/Victor
Voting ended onOct 9, 2023
This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.
Could you write something in which Scully tells Mulder she's pregnant in the afterglow? Thank you!!!!
In all of your 37 years of life you have never known sheer, delirious bliss such as this.
Your body is limp, your heart full, your mind clear. Your skin is misty with perspiration, your nerves still tingling with faint echoes of pleasure, your muscles aching and sore with joyous exertion. You lay with your head tucked perfectly into the crook of his shoulder as he drifts his fingertips up and down the length of your spine. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Silently. Basking in post-sex haze with Mulder almost borders on something sacred.
You chance a glance at him, dozing peacefully beside you. You can tell by his breathing that he’s not asleep, his hands still caressing your body lovingly. You press a downy kiss to his slackened lips, his eyelids fluttering open at the tender contact. You give him a small, shy smile and he grins dopily in return—he’s so beautifully, impossibly handsome and your chest is pained with loving him.
Every little thing in this moment feels so effortlessly good…you know now is the time.
“Mulder…” you nuzzle your lips against the cool swirl of his ear, your next words whispered on a breathless hush, “…I’m pregnant.”
There’s a heavy, lingering pause in the air, long enough that for a fraction of a second you’re afraid he might not have heard. But then he shifts beneath you, draws away to look at you, and you’re struck by the intensity of his gaze. There is so much love, so much fear in those fervent mosslike eyes that it clenches your heart. He slowly reaches out with a trembling hand, his calloused palm cupping your cheek with more reverence than you thought possible.
“What did you say?” He croaks quietly, and you’re astonished to hear what might resemble threatened tears lingering in the back of his throat. Reassuringly you clasp his wrist, gently stroking the tendons beneath his silken skin with your thumb.
“I had my annual health assessment about a week ago,” you fall back on your tried and true modus operandi—logically presenting facts, “My bloodwork came back indicating I’m almost three months pregnant. I had it confirmed…I’m pregnant, Mulder. I’m going to have a baby.” You swallow, steeling yourself, “…Your baby.” As if you need to clarify. As if you two haven’t been making love exclusively for the past six months like your lives depended on it…or at least like you were making up for lost time.
He stares at you for a beat longer and you watch as his gaze darts back and forth across your face. To your immense shock his expression nearly crumples before you, his eyes glassy with immediate tears. You open your mouth, sucking in the breath required to ask if this is bad news, if this is something he no longer wants to be a part of despite his adamant conversation with you many months back. But then you are in his arms, and he’s holding you so tightly, so fiercely as he husks out your name. He clutches at you, squeezing you the hardest you’ve ever been squeezed, and you can feel him trembling as you grip him back.
“Oh God, Scully,” he shudders, his voice thick with moisture, “Oh God.”
He messily kisses you, his breath catching in his throat as he attempts to repress a sob. His clear, palpable joy permits you to express your own and you laugh amidst your own gathering tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t able to happen, and you scarcely dare to believe it now. You both are celebrating the rebirth of something you’d once thought lost.
“We’ll talk,” you promise, your fingertips against his lips as you sense the millions of questions you can feel bursting out from within him, “We’ll talk, I just want to bask in this tonight.” He nods wordlessly, tears still glittering in his eyes and he chases your fingers with a kiss. He presses his big hand carefully over the smoothness of your stomach and breathes your name.
Eventually you will drift to sleep in his arms, certain of the fact that he will not let you go for even a moment tonight, his large capable hands resting over the space of a womb that now cradles a child conceived in love.
She sits on the small metal stool by the bedside, waiting patiently for him to wake up. This is by far the worst beating she’s ever received of her life, and now Mulder’s got a wired jaw. Though his doctor says he should be fine, and that he is not suffering from a concussion; she desperately wants to see his hazel eyes smiling at her.
Her face is pretty bruised up, too, and she has two broken ribs. Mulder had protected her from several punches and blows that came her way, or else she might have a concussion. My poor baby, she leans over him and touches his cheek.
A.D. Skinner is on his way to Kansas, and should arrive sometime before noon. He sounded upset on the phone earlier, and Scully can imagine him shaking his head while saying, “a mass fighting?”
The drive to his apartment had taken much longer as the party-goers and the merrymakers filled the street to head home. He didn’t mind, though, because she had agreed to stay with him for the weekend on the account of his badly-wounded arm.
Thank goodness for Zombies? He thought and let out a chuckle.
“What’s so funny, Mulder?”
“Oh, nothing.” He gave her a toothy grin, “you got any New Year’s resolution, Scully?”
“Hey, Scully! Over here!” She finally sees him, waving and grinning like a child getting a special recognition on the stage from the school principal. She contemplates briefly about walking onto the court, but decides against it and heads to the bleachers instead. It’s getting near the time when most of the afternoon people are heading out but the night crowds have yet to arrive.
Noticing that she has taken a seat, Mulder turns, shoots, and makes the basket. He glances to see if Scully’s watching.
Sometimes, Fox Mulder thinks it’s funny that he’s been living here for almost 4 years now. Never having to lock his door– No modems, no faxes, no cell phones. Most of the residents have no internet at home, and frequent the town library for the world wide web every once in a while. He’s got a landline and a fax machine, and his house is one of the two in this town with internet at home.
People are friendly here, caring, but not nosy, and Mulder really cherishes that. In a town where the population is only a few hundred, they have really, really accepted him and his family with open arms. The town mayor, a retired firefighter in his 50s, invites him to fish with his sons every once in a while–he’s the other household with internet. Their children play together despite the age differences; his younger boys are quite the little gentlemen to his girls.
dededos
stormborns
kaledo-art
origamiaround
dailybridgerton
2087
